


No Man's Land

by RydiaAsuka



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RydiaAsuka/pseuds/RydiaAsuka
Summary: Zagi-centric. A bit of a look into Zagi's past as he waits for Yuri.Also contains the sequel: A Whisper of the Truth





	1. No Man's Land

**Author's Note:**

> Migrating from FF.net

Tarqaron towered over him, somewhere up at the peak was Duke, waiting to do whatever it was the fool wanted to do. Below him loomed a gaping black pit. Who could tell when one would hit the ground if you fell in there. He was vaguely aware that the fate of the world rested within this very tower, that his own life was, technically, on the line; yet Zagi could not bring himself to care. All that he could think about was that Yuri was somewhere below him, and would soon be before him. One last battle, a no holds barred, no quarter given, duel to the death. He had seen to that. His thoughts were obsessed with the thought of finally having it out with the black-haired swordsman. So obsessed that he did not even care that either result, his victory or Yuri’s, would lead to his death. 

It was almost unnerving. Zagi was fully aware that he had thrown any care for fellow humans aside years ago. His family was gone, butchered brutally when he was young, so what else was there to do? Besides, he had never liked his parents anyway. They had given him no reason to love them, and every reason to hate them...

“ _Hey, Brat, get over here! Yes, you! Who do you think I’m talking to, that rug you’re sitting on? Now get your ass over here! Right now!”_

_Flinching in fear, the young boy quickly stood up and slunk in toward his father as slowly as he dared. As much as he feared approaching the man, he feared far more the consequences of not doing as he was told. Seeing his father’s hand come up, the boy flinched in fear, ruby eyes going wide as he cringed down, trying to become a smaller target. Needless to say he was surprised when no painful contact was forthcoming. No, indeed his father was suddenly thrusting a long knife into his hands._

_“Don’t give me that look, Whelp! You’re going to learn how to fight, and you’re going to learn right, got that?”_

_Nodding slowly, the young boy clutched the blade tightly, watching in silent fear as his father suddenly whirled on him with twin daggers drawn, slashing and stabbing at him with no mercy._

_With a pained cry, the child fell back, clutching a suddenly-bleeding cheek._

_“Tsk,” his father said, shaking his head, “you’re never going to get good it you don’t learn the hard way! And stop backing off like a frightened cheagle! Don’t run, Kid, fight!”_

_Taking his hand from him cut face, the boy gazed into the crimson liquid staining his hand. He had known his father—and his mother, for that matter—to hit him before. That was hardly uncommon, even. This, however, was the first time he had ever had weapons raised against him._

_With a whimper, the six-year-old hefted the heavy knife in front of him just in time to block a second slash from his father._

_“Good, good! Like that! A true warrior never gets hit except when facing the best of the best! Remember that! And you will be the best of the best, I expect perfection!”_

_The child had no further warning as his father closed in on him, knives blurring in an incredible fashion. He blocked as best he could, unsure of what else to do to stay alive..._

_He was hardly successful._

Thinking back, Zagi realised it was a wonder he had survived childhood at all. That man had shown him hardly any mercy. If not for his mother’s slight ability with healing, he probably would not have lived. If not for that healing he certainly would be covered in scars today. As it was, the only evidence remaining was the stamp that had been left on his soul. 

Not that his mother had been any sort of angel. Far from it, in fact.

_“Brat, get over here!”_

_With a soft moan, the young boy pulled himself out of bed, joints still stiff and aching from all of the fighting his father had been forcing on him. The older man had decided that now that his son had hit the double digits it meant that his workload should be doubled. Granted, all of the sword-fighting was having an effect on the boy. He had grown fast, quick to think in a fight, light on his feet, and just overall excellent with a blade. Injuries were becoming few and far between. Even at the ripe young age of ten, he was growing to be a formidable opponent._

_Not that either of his parents would ever say as such. To them he was never good enough._

_“I’m not going to tell you one more time...!”_

_With a barely-contained yelp, the boy was out of bed and standing before his mother as fast as he could move. He had barely stopped in front of her when a wooden spoon blazed across his cheek hard enough to snap the wood._

_“When I tell you to move, you move!”_

_Flinching, the boy bowed his head, struggling to keep a hand from wandering up to sooth his aching face. That would just be taken as a sign of weakness._

_Sniffing, the tough woman threw down the broken spoon._

_“Next time will have to be metal, you little aphid,” she threatened. “That’s what you get for breaking my best cooking piece.”_

_“Yes Mother...” he finally mumbled, carefully keeping his eyes on the floor. Anything else would just have him ‘put in his place’ for ‘defying authority’._

_With a sniff, the woman turned to leave. “Watch your sister while I bathe.”_

_Once she had left the room, the ruby-eyed boy dropped to his knees and scooped the four-year-old toddler into his arms, clutching her tightly to his chest. If only she had never been born into this hell-hole, she never deserved such a fate..._

Mari.

Zagi wondered about what cruel twist of fate had brought his thoughts to her. Regardless, there was little point in dwelling on the past now. 

Still...some things were easier said than done. Allowing his restless feet to carry him in a slow loop around the landing where we awaited Yuri, he tried to turn his thoughts elsewhere, anywhere but on Mari. No matter how he tried, however, it was a useless effort.

_“Brother!”_

_Turning, the boy allowed the smile he saved solely for his sister to grace his lips. She was such an angelic child. Reaching down, he ruffled her soft, pink hair with an affectionate hand._

_“What is it, Mari?”_

_Beaming up at her older brother, the six-year-old grinned. “Mom was gonna force more magic lessons on me, so I got away!”_

_Eyes widening, the twelve-year-old reached down and grabbed her hand tightly. “Please tell me you’re kidding, Mari!”_

_“Big Bro?” she asked, soft brown orbs staring up at him. “What’s wrong? Y-you look scared...did Dad hurt you again?”_

_“No, but Mari, you can’t go skipping out on lessons. Promise you won’t ever do it again!” he pleaded, ruby eyes filled with worry._

_“O-okay...but why?”_

_Keeping tight hold of her hand, the boy began leading her back toward their house._

_“Don’t worry about why, just do it.”_

_Catching his mood, the young girl nodded, clearly terrified. “O-okay...”_

_Entering the house, the boy looked around carefully until he spotted his very displeased mother staring at them._

_“Well, look at what the cat dragged in... I thought you had lessons, Miss Prise!”_

_“Mari, go wait in the other room.”_

_Once the girl had departed, the young boy walked over to his mother before bowing hastily, terror running through his veins._

_“M-Mother? I-I’m sorry! I took Mari out...I didn’t realise she had lessons, really!”_

_“Didn’t realise?! I doubt that very much! You were running off, weren’t you? Don’t lie to me, Boy!”_

_Cringing, the boy could do nothing but stare up at his mother fearfully as she smacked a metal spoon off of one hand while slowly closing in on him._

_“I-it was my fault, really! Don’t hurt her!”_

_“Fine. Then you can take her punishment as well as your own.”_

_As his muted whimpers cut through the silences between lashings, he heard Mari start to cry in the other room._

Zagi scrubbed one hand stubbornly across his eyes. He _was not_ crying! Something had flown into his eye, dammit! 

Stomping irately, the maniacal assassin stormed to the edge of the platform to stare down into the pitiless depths. It was all his parents’ faults, let their souls be damned! Everything could be credited to them! He had never even been able to truly tell what it was they wanted from him! They insisted he ‘give them due respect’ and then turned around and acted like...

_The boy pressed himself up against the door, ears straining to catch the conversation drifting to him from the other room._

_“...brats. Boy can’t even figure it out!”_

_“Girl’s got no talent! Dunno what to do with her!”_

_“Forget the female for a second! It’s the boy...he’s got barrels of talent, but no backbone! We tell him to submit, and he does! He needs to learn that he has to have a backbone and a will of steel to be the best!”_

_“You terrorise it into him! What do you except?! He’s just a kid, give him time. He’ll snap back one day, and then you won’t be so happy...”_

_“Perhaps...just so long as he brings no shame to this family.”_

_“He won’t. The girl, though...she’s useless. I shouldn’t even bother training it.”_

_“Hm, give her time. If she doesn’t come around we can always get rid of her.”_

_“Alright. One more year, if not...”_

_The thirteen-year-old gasped softly and all but ran back to dive under the covers. What did his father mean that he had no backbone? He fought with everything he had! He was barely ever hit anymore! And worse than that...what was going to happen to Mari if she did not improve? She tried so hard..._

Zagi gripped his sword hilt, a low growl sounding in his throat at the memory. Oh, he knew now. He knew all too well what it had all meant. His youth had led to ignorance then, perhaps had he understood...

No, thinking that way was useless. It would only lead to regrets about things he could not change. Regret was not in his vocabulary. 

His father had been right about one thing, though: he had snapped back. It was almost amazing, considering how much of a fighter he had been toward people not related to him...

_“Hey, look, it’s that crazy kid. Good grief, but I can’t believe his parents let him behave the way he does.”_

_“I know! I told my kids to stay away from him. He’s far too violent.”_

_Turning, the boy glared at the women talking across the street. Did they not realise he could hear every word they were saying? Then again, they probably wanted him to._

_With that thought, he folded his arms and stalked away. It was not like he wanted such a violent nature, it was just...well, it was how he had been raised._

_Talk about irony._

_“I heard he beat up a boy for calling his mother nice. Seriously, what the hell’s wrong with him? They should lock him up.”_

_Yes. Irony._

_Well, what did these strangers know, anyway? It was not like he cared. These people were inconsequential to his life. All that mattered was surviving, and keeping Mari alive. If that hardened him, then so be it. It was a small sacrifice._

_“--killer’s eyes.”_

_Was that true? Well, then so be it._

_A small sacrifice._

_Tuning out the women’s mindless chatter, the boy kept on his errand. He had been told to hurry, so he was going to hurry._

_“Hey, Pinky, love the hair!”_

_Growling, the young teen forced himself to ignore the snide comments being shot at him from a group of boys that had fallen in behind him. If he let himself get distracted now..._

_“Heh, so his mommy let him out today, I see. He’s so ugly I’m surprised.”_

_“And without his bratty sister. Amazing. And here I thought they were lovers or something. Never one without the other.”_

_“I know, she hangs off of him like a leech.”_

_“Worse than a leech, at least leeches can’t talk.”_

_Veering off, the ruby-eyed teen headed off to the park. He had had about enough._

_Nobody insulted his sister._

_In fact, if he had not been on a schedule...nobody insulted him like that, either._

_“Running away through the park, Pinky?”_

_Pausing, the boy did not turn around, speaking to the air before him, “You’re the ones that are gonna be running.”_

_“O-ho, talking big, eh?”_

_“Here’s the game plan. You make me bleed, and you win. You don’t, and I win.” Cracking his knuckles, the boy finally turned to face them. “Fair enough for ya?”_

_“You against all of us? You’re on!”_

_He needed no more invitation. He had been taught to strike fast and hard. So he did._

_Opening the door to his house some time later, he dropped the vegetables he had been sent to get on the counter._

_“Where were you, Brat?”_

_“I won.”_

_“Hmph, fine.”_

_Knowing that was as close to praise as he would ever get, the child left to find his sister and make sure she was well._

Yes, that was right. He had been ostracised as a child. Well, in between people picking fights with him, of course. Fights he had won more often than not. 

In fact, by the time he was fourteen, he had even begun beating his father from time-to-time. In fact, Zagi seemed to recall harbouring some ridiculous dream of using his skill to one day help Mari escape with him. Of course, that had never happened. He had never forgotten his parents’ words that night, and one night, all had fallen in around him. 

He remembered all too well...

_“Girl, get over here!”_

_The boy watched from the next room with a frown as his younger sister leapt up and scurried over to their mother, wariness painting her pretty features. As she had aged, the young girl had learned caution around their parents. Still, that fact did not stop him from watching out for her, also. Something in the air just did not feel right. His parents seemed...edgy. Not only that, but his father was supposed to be joining him for more ‘training,’ yet he had been ordered to wait alone until the older man was ready. Not at all a normal occurrence._

_“Go outside and wait for us, we’re going for a walk.”_

_Silently, Mari did as she was told, which only caused the young teen to frown more. This was not right._

_“...the boy’s not going to be happy when he realises she’s gone. He’s quite fond of her.”_

_“He’ll get over it. You’re the one who’s been complaining that she’s useless to train. We gave her that year...”_

_The boy grit his teeth, red eyes narrowing. He had known it! They were going to do something to Mari!_

_“You sure this is going to go smoothly? He could cause trouble...”_

_“Just force him into silence. You can do that, right?”_

_“...perhaps.”_

_“If you can’t, I will.”_

_“He’s nearly as good as you.”_

_“He’d like to think that.”_

_The boy heard his mother grunt something noncommittal in response, yet he was passed paying attention. He had to rescue Mari! Who knew what they were going to do to her?! Gripping his sword tightly, he burst out of the room, eyes glowing with rage._

_“What the hell are you going to do to Mari?! Tell me, dammit!”_

_Frowning, his father shook his head. “I told you to wait for me, boy! Now get back in there! I’ll deal with you later.”_

_Hefting his sword, the pink-haired boy shook his head, blond bangs flapping over his ruby eyes. “No. Not until I know Mari’s safe!”_

_“Why you little...!”_

_Narrowing his eyes, the boy growled. “Answer me!”_

_“We’re getting rid of her. She’s useless!”_

_“No she’s not, you bastard! Let her go!”_

_“Don’t order me around!” hissed his father, reaching for his own sword. “I guess your punishment isn’t going to wait.”_

_As he was speaking, the boy’s mother had stuck grabbed her own metal spoon, beating it off of one hand. “You’re going to regret this.”_

_The boy did not care. His thoughts were consumed by rage that his parents meant to take Mari away from him. What were they going to do to her? Kill her? Sell her away? It did not matter. He had had enough. He would protect her, even if it was the last thing he did._

_With a growl, he lunged forward, blade slashing at his father. He had only a split second to react as the man’s blade came at him. Falling back, he ducked under the weapon and parried it with his own. Using his left arm resting on the floor, he shifted his weight to his torso and kicked the man’s legs out from under him and quickly rolled away as the heavier male fell._

_Never being one to forget multiple opponents, the teen shot up, blade before him to confront his mother. With a shrill cry, the woman launched herself at him in an attack that he easily dodged, ducking under and slicing open her side. With a cry, the tall woman fell back, her heated brown eyes glaring at him. Slicing behind him, the boy managed to stab his father in the shoulder before leaping back, bloodied blade level in front of him._

_“You little whelp!”_

_“No! Don’t!”_

_His father’s cries were too late, however, as the boy threw himself into his mother’s assault, smoothly disarming her as he kicked her to the floor._

_“Nobody hurts my sister!” he yelled, blade coming down to stab her in the back. Wrenching the dripping blade back up, he slashed and stab her several more times before jumping back to avoid his father’s enraged assault._

_“You Brat! Screw the family legacy! You’re dead!”_

_With a snort, the boy flowed back, a maniacal grin painting his face. “Am I? She is, but I don’t think I am!” Lunging forward, he reversed the blade and drove the hilt into his father’s stomach, causing the older man to cough up blood. As the man staggered back, the boy shoved him to the floor._

_“You know...I’ve wanted to do this for a long, long time, you bastard. You deserve every bit of agony for what you did to us!” As he spoke, the boy was driving his sword point into the man’s flesh. Arms, legs, shoulders... Each thrust brought a new spray of blood squirting up, staining the sword and surrounding floor a deep red. Finally he planted one foot firmly on the redheaded man’s chest, a demonic smirk on his face._

_“Now...you die.”_

_The boy was quite fascinated with how loud his father screamed as that blade drove through his heart._

_“...guess I won.”_

_Drawing the blade back, he was shocked to hear the front door creak open. “W-what’s going on?!”_

_No...if the authorities caught him now, when he’d just won their freedom, he’d...!_

_Whirling on his heel, he drove the sword deep into the figure entering the house..._

He had passed out after that, Zagi recalled. Likely from raw shock as to what he had done. He had been found eventually, likely by some neighbour who had heard the screams. It had been determined that someone had broken in and murdered his parents. He had tried to defend them, but had been knocked out and left for dead. 

And Mari...

She had been found just outside the house, stabbed through the side and into the gut. Likely by whoever had been sent to ‘get rid’ of her. At least, that was what he had told himself all of these long years.

He had not killed his sister. He. Had. **Not**.

After a few years, he had even begun to believe it.

He never could recall the face of the third person he had stabbed, however. It was like it had been completely wiped from his mind by the time he awoke, in a strange place...

_“Poor thing...he hasn’t said a word since he came here. Lost his whole family in an attempted robbery, or so they think.”_

_“Hm...still, no different from most of the children here. The only way they differ is whether or not they have siblings; poor things.”_

_The boy tuned them out. People were always talking, they never seemed to know when to shut up. He had no regrets over the deaths of his parents, only Mari. He had been unable to save her, and for that alone he wanted to turn back time. Still, it was useless dwelling on it, what was done was done._

_Yet dwell on it he did._

_“His eyes...they’re so cold.”_

_“A lot of them are like that, when they first come to us. He’ll get better. Just give him some time.”_

_“...are they? He just...looks so hate-filled.”_

_“Give him time, that’s all he needs.”_

_“If you say so...”_

_“Now, if you’ll come this way, I’ll introduce you to some of our other children.”_

_The boy paid no mind to the two women walking away with no few glances back in his direction. He did not care. It was how his days went now. People came in, looked at him, and bypassed him. It was all the same. He expected he would remain until he was old enough to leave legally, or he ran off._

He had been wrong, however. In fact, he had lasted only a few more days after that incident, so Zagi recalled. Perhaps it had been fate that had brought him to that orphanage, perhaps not. Whatever it was, it had decided his life. 

How fitting.

_“Oh, Sir Yeager! We took in a new one; you should have a look at him!”_

_“Ja? Let’s see then.”_

_“There he is...we don’t know his name, he hasn’t spoken yet.”_

_The boy glared over at the two newcomers to his turf, fiery-red eyes blazing. He had seriously had enough of these stupid interruptions. Why could people not leave him alone? Could they not see that it was all he wanted?_

_“Leave us.”_

_With a bow, the woman wasted no time in hurrying away, leaving Yeager and the boy alone together._

_“What happened to you, boy?”_

_Glaring evenly at Yeager, the boy just frowned._

_“I like your eyes. I can always use another good soldier. You must understand, ja?”_

_“...what are you talking about?” the boy finally asked, folding his arms impudently._

_Yeager laughed. “I see you will take some convincing, nein? Very well, very well.”_

_“Spit it out!”_

_“Your parents are dead, ja?”_

_The boy rolled his eyes. Honestly, was this man stupid? Why else in hell would he be at a bloody orphanage?!_

_“Ach, ach. No need to get touchy, oh no. I’ll I’m saying is that you...are a killer, ja? Ah, I see by your glare that I’m right, nein? Very good, very good. Your parents died, you killed them, hm?”_

_“W-what?! H-how do you...?” exclaimed the boy, eyes widening._

_“I need someone like you, for my Guild. You will join us, ja? Very good. An assassin, I think, yes. That will do for you.”_

_“What the hell, man?! Just who do you think you are?!”_

_“...you refuse? Well this is not good, ach nein, no.”_

_“...I never said that.” He had been trained to fight, to kill. He might as well use those skills. After all, it was all he knew in the world. He had been taught nothing else._

_“Very good! You will come with me, hm?”_

_“...fine, but you’ll regret it if you’re lying to me.”_

_“Nonono! All will go well, you will see, you will see.”_

_Standing up, the boy approached Yeager slowly, clearly on his guard._

_“Now, what shall I call you?”_

_The omission of the word name did not go unnoticed by the boy. Frowning, he shook his head slowly, thinking._

_“Call me...Zagi.”_

_“Very well, Zagi. Welcome to Leviathan’s Claw!”_

_The two exchanged no further words as Yeager announced that he was taking ‘Zagi’ with him. Zagi had no idea what was in store for him, but he was going to face it with everything he had._

_Because it was all he could do. Fighting was all he knew, and he would be the best._

And so he had been, at least until he had met Yuri. Yuri had bested him, made him bleed. That counted as a loss according to his rules. It had meant he was not the best; or at the least that there was someone worth fighting in the world. Honestly, the result of their first battle had shocked Zagi to no end. Never before had he been foiled from a target. Yuri Lowell, however, had beaten him time and time again. It was downright shocking to him. 

And also fascinating. Yuri Lowell was a study for him. After everything that had happened in his life, he could honestly say that, aside from his sister, Yuri was the only person who had even interested him. He even dared to think that, given other circumstances...they might have been able to be friends. He almost wished that they could have been. He hated his life. After Mari he had allowed no living soul close to him, yet he often wished he had dared. It was a lonely existence. 

“Yuri...dammit to hell! Why...do we have to fight like this?” he screamed, slashing out with his left arm in a rage. For all of his posturing, he really wished he could just fight Yuri as...friends training together, if he dared to think such a thing. It might not get him the rush he wanted from fighting all-out to the death, but it would give him something more. 

Perhaps it would have saved him, given the time. 

Perhaps. 

At the sound of distant footsteps, Zagi moved to stand silently in the centre of the landing. Waiting. Waiting for death, and he knew it. No matter the outcome, he would die. 

~

As he felt Yuri’s blade cut deeply into his chest and toppled back into the gaping pit, Zagi could not help but smile. 

“Thank you, Yuri...” he whispered as he fell, eyes closing. Finally he had recalled the face of the third person he had stabbed that day. A face he had forced himself to forget, with its brown eyes asking ‘why?’ in a tone louder than any voice. “For...avenging Mari for me.”

~

“He was insane.”

Yuri could not help but chuckle a bit at Rita’s comment, although the laughter held no amusement. “Was he?”

“Duh! I mean, seriously, the guy chased you like some sort of stalker! It was...creepy.”

“I won’t argue with you there.”

“He kept going on and on about getting a ‘good fight’. Seriously, what was that all about?” 

Yuri just shrugged, running his gauntleted right hand through his hair. “I couldn’t say.” Despite his words, Yuri was not entirely sure he did not harbour a guess, at least. He could never hope to know the truth, but he could guess. “Something messed him up as a kid though.”

“Heh, you think so, Kid?” 

“Yeah I do, Old Man. I really do.”

Raven smirked. “If that’s the case...do you think he found his answer?”

“...no, I don’t. But who can say for sure except him?”

“Good answer, Yuri. Good answer.”

“You two are way too weird...”

Raven and Yuri just exchanged a knowing glance at Rita’s comment. Perhaps someday she would understand.

“Yeah, we are,” Yuri said with a more genuine chuckle. Laying a hand on Rita’s shoulder, he hustled her along gently. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Rita frowned. “J-just shut up.”

“Come on, kids! Even this ol’ man’s goin’ ta leave ya behind!”

“Guess we better get going before Raven decides to fly away on us.”

“Huh, he’s just an idiotic old man, but you’re right. We have stuff to do.”

Nodding, Yuri glanced back only once before setting his gaze ahead and moving forward. It was all he could do now, after all.


	2. A Whisper of the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to No Man's Land
> 
> A few months after the game, Yuri decides to take a walk one evening and ends up in a situation he could never have imagined.

Yuri could not sleep. The guild had stopped for the night in Capua Torim, following another long day of doing odd jobs for people. This time, they had been commissioned to find and capture a rare monster that was supposed to be running loose on the plains of Tolbyccia, not far from the port town. So far, however, they had been unsuccessful. Honestly, Yuri figured the guy was just a lunatic. In all their travels, they had never seen anything like what this man had described.

"A humanoid creature with flame-like spines on its head that can disappear?" he muttered, sitting up. "The guy was probably trashed at the time…"

Hooking his arms over his knees, the dark-haired swordsman gazed about the room. Still lumps on the other beds marked the slumbering forms of Raven and Karol. Apparently, whatever was bothering him was having no effect on them. Well, that was fine by him. Part of him was half-convinced he was dreaming, anyway. He was not sure why, it was just that…some part of this did not feel right. He was not at all sure what he even meant by that, as nothing _appeared_ at all out of the ordinary, but, well…it still felt off.

Great. Now _he_ was sounding like a trashed loon. Well, at least he fit the requirements for finding the 'mystery monster' this way.

Deciding he needed a walk to clear his head, the swordsman got up off of his bed and made his way out of the room, intent on taking a walk. On his way out of the inn, he could not help but notice that the inn's night clerk was gone.

"Somebody had too much coffee, apparently," he muttered as he pushed the door open. Oh well, if the man was not back by the time he returned, he could always break back in.

The first thing Yuri noticed as the door clicked shut behind him was the fog. Being that Capua Torim was a coastal town, fog was not unusual, or anything; it just _was_. Stepping out into it, he headed across the upper level of town toward the wharf. Gazing about, Yuri could only just make out the outline of buildings through the thick mist. Here and there a light shone through the darkness, its path being disoriented and stretched because of the water particles dancing in the air. It created an eerie image in the night.

He noted idly that though there seemed to be a fair number of people awake at this late hour, there did not seem to be anybody out in the streets. Probably a product of the fog. People in cities like this learned to stay in at night, as fog created the perfect cover for muggings.

Well, at least he did not have much to worry about. Not only did he carry nothing of value on him, Yuri was also more than a little confident that your average pick-pocket would meet his or her match with him. He had grown up on the streets, too.

The smell of salt and fish grew rank on the air as the swordsman approached the docks. Not long after, the slow and steady thumping of ships hitting wharfs and the lapping of water at wood met his ears, stifled as it was by the fog. Yes, everything was painfully… _normal_. So why, then, was that feeling in his gut slowly growing stronger?

Descending the stairs to bring him to sea-level, Yuri made his way out onto the docks. The hollow thumping of his boots on the wooden planking sounded muffled in his ears as he made his way to the end of the boards. This close to the ocean, the dampness in the air became painfully apparent, compliments of the soft breeze streaming in off of the ocean. A pity it was not just a bit harder so it could blow the fog away completely, but it did at least thin it a bit, as well as gently ruffle the _Fiertia_ 's sails.

Ignoring the cold as best he could, Yuri made his way to the end of the dock and sat down with one leg hanging off the end as he stared out over the ocean. Propping up his other leg, he rested his left arm on it, Last Fencer dangling from its cord to rest against the damp boards. How long he sat like that, free of all thought save how wonderful it was to have such peace—he _was_ mostly a loner at heart; he enjoyed his solitude—he could not have said. Eventually, however, he could not help but notice how… _complete_ the silence was. Certainly, the normal noises of nature were there, but there should have been a nightly patrol of guards on the docks to protect the ships from thieves or vandals. Even on the ships themselves there was no life. Most sailors with cargo would leave their own watchmen on board. There was none of that.

"Damn, either I _am_ going loony…or I'm dreaming," he muttered, gazing around with increased interest. The fact that he was even thinking about something like this certainly seemed to support the first option. However, dreams were bloody stupid as often as not, so who could say?

Every sense of his was screaming that the complete lack of life other than himself was…wrong. Yuri had never been one to ignore his senses; it was how he had survived to adulthood. This time, however, something even stronger told him to just stay put. It was telling him that there was nothing he could do this time, so there was no use wasting energy. So that was what he did. Turning his eyes back over the ocean, Yuri pushed up a front of relaxed ease, although inwardly he did not relax for a moment. Dream or not, he would rather not take the risk.

It was in that way that he realised he was suddenly not alone any longer. He did not see anyone, or even hear anything out of the ordinary…he just knew that, suddenly, he was no longer alone.

Tilting his head a bit to the side, he caught sight of someone sitting propped up against a mooring post near him. He did not say anything, though. Something told him that he needed to wait and listen this time. It had never been his thing—he was one hundred percent action oriented—yet he would make an exception this time. His gut was telling him to.

"Yuri Lowell."

And he knew that voice. Had Yuri been the sort to keep even the slightest less control over himself, he probably would have gasped aloud. Instead, he settled for holding his peace.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Yuri Lowell?"

Still, he said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would change anything, so instead he kept his eyes glued to the slightly rippling ocean, listening.

"Don't ignore me! I won't stand for it!"

At that moment, Yuri tilted his head ever so slightly, dark eyes meeting crimson for the briefest of moments before he turned away again. That one look said more than words ever could. So much passed between the two that could never be said with words: feelings, emotions, unspoken questions…and suddenly, Yuri knew. He understood what this was about.

"Why did you come to me?"

"Don't be stupid! I didn't!"

So, whatever it was, then, Yuri had been the one to come, not the one called. Interesting. He did not pretend to be a genius about these sorts of things, but there was something else going on. Of that, he was certain.

The two sat in silence for several more minutes—or at least that was what Yuri perceived it to be—just watching the waves lap at the dock.

"The Old Man asked me something, once." Yuri figured it best not to mention when.

"And why the hell should I care, Yuri Lowell? It doesn't matter to me!"

"Let me finish."

"Why would I do that, Yuri Lowell?"

Finally getting tired with the other's tirade, Yuri just went on over him. "Every solider has a reason for fighting. Why did you?"

The silence that stretched in response to his question almost had Yuri regretting asking it. Almost. However, all doubt sprang from his mind when the other spoke.

"...I don't know." There was definitely a painful note of honesty in those words. "I never gave it a lot of thought! I was raised to fight; it was what I did. That was all, Yuri Lowell."

"Raised to fight?"

"Bastard old man taught me to fight, so I fought. Then I killed him, and the woman, too. And Mari, dammit! Then I was taken and told to use those skills. What the hell else should I have done?"

Yuri had never been the philosophical sort, and his strength at making people feel better came from not letting them dwell on problems, and therefore keeping them from getting down. In this sort of situation, he really did not know what to do. Still, he felt that what was said here was going to be very, very important.

"...Mari?" Maybe he should not ask, but he felt that it was important, so he did.

"Yes, _Mari_!" the shadowy figure snapped back.

So, who exactly was this 'Mari,' then? He could not say for certain, but Yuri could take a stab at it from the context. Being that she was mentioned in the same breath as the other's parents, he would have to guess she was a relative—possibly a sister? That would be his guess, at any rate. Why kill her, though? He had to assume the other had been abused as a child, but by a sister? That seemed odd. Maybe he was wrong about that.

"Who was she?"

"My sister. Why the hell does it matter, Yuri Lowell?"

"Was she like your parents?" Yuri could not say why he was pushing this issue so hard, but he was. It was probably because he was intrigued by the other's strong reaction to her name. There was something there...

"No! Of course not! Why the hell would you dare even _think_ that, Yuri Lowell? I should spill your blood for that!"

Well. Apparently he was going to have to watch his words more. This seemed to be a touchy subject.

Lowering his voice, the swordsman took a deep breath and let a long moment lapse while the other calmed down. "Then...why did you kill her?"

"I-I..." There was a definite faltering to the other's tone, this time. After a moment, he spoke again, "...didn't mean to."

Wait, so it was—had been—an _accident_? This was starting to smell ugly.

"I didn't...ugh! I didn't do it on purpose, Yuri Lowell! She came in, and...and...I was trying to protect her from them! Those bastards were going to...!"

Yuri did not dare ask what they were going to do. It seemed that his original theory had not been so far off. Something _had_ messed the guy up as a kid. His parents, to be precise. Yuri could not say that that surprised him. All-in-all, it sort of made sense. Who else had that much influence in a child's life other than his or her immediate guardian? Not that the swordsman could really say from personal experience, but he assumed not many.

Yuriwas not really sure where to go from there. He had never done this before; it was so not him. Yet, this time, there was no one else. This time, it _was_ up to him.

"I wanted to protect her! _Protect her_! Dammit, I should carve you up and bury you with her!"

Of course, this would be easier if the person he was talking to was wholly sane.

"Is that it, then? You fought and killed because you hated yourself for killing her?" Was that the answer? Why he had been so maniacal, so obsessed with death?

"No! Yes...maybe! Ugh, damn you, Yuri Lowell! I didn't remember!"

"Didn't remember?" Then it hit him. It was not unheard of for people to block out events mentally. Perhaps that was what this guy had done.

"Yes! I...only remembered...while I was waiting for _you_ , Yuri Lowell!"

So...maybe he _had_ found his answer, just a different one from what Raven had meant back then. Or maybe it was both. Perhaps he had fought for revenge, and ultimately he had learned who had killed his sister while simultaneously fighting to his own death—effectively gaining him that revenge...

Whatever it was, Yuri felt the start of a headache coming on.

Pausing to think for a moment, Yuri stared out over the gently rippling water, tuning out the other's ranting as he did so. At first, he thought he was imagining things when he saw a dark shape forming in the distance, yet a sudden, icy-cold gust of air lifted the curtain of mist for an instant—just long enough for him to spot the distant outline of a ship. He did not need a clearer picture to know which ship it was: the _Atherum_. The last time he had seen the ghost ship had been that time they were in Capua Nor and had followed Patty out onto the docks for one final confrontation with...

No, that was neither here nor there. All that mattered was that Yuri was certain that the ship was only in this close to land because it had business there. It was still a ways out, but now that he was certain of what he was seeing, Yuri could also be sure that it was coming closer. How, he was not even sure. The fog was less dense over the water, of course, but...he still should not be able to see that far.

...it was almost as though the ship _wanted_ him to see it.

"I think I get it now, Zagi," he finally stated quietly. "Why you fought, why you killed—why you did what you did—and I'm sorry." And he found himself really meaning that. Somehow. Yuri Lowell, who was never sorry about _anything_ , was sorry now. He was sorry for the way he had treated Zagi, what he had done...even his final words to the other. It was all just...so awful. He could not say he regretted it—Yuri Lowell did not 'regret'—but he was sorry. It was amazing what the truth could do to a guy.

"Don't be, Yuri Lowell. We all play our parts in life; choose our own paths. You could have been like me, right? But you weren't! So don't say you're sorry now!"

"Fine then," he muttered with a dry chuckle. "Then how about 'get the hell out of here, you damn bastard'?"

The two sat in silence for a long time after that. Eventually, though, the _Atherum_ drew close. That was the last thing Yuri remembered.

________________________________________

"Yuri?"

At Karol's call, Yuri blinked, slowly drawing himself back to reality. Carefully taking stock of his situation, the swordsman realised he was sitting on his bed at the inn, staring out the window. Now when had he...?

No. Asking the air was pretty damn useless. Besides, it was, ultimately, inconsequential. The fact was, here he was, staring out the window back in his hotel room. Had he ever left it? Well, even he did not know.

"Yuri!"

"What's up, Cap'n Karol?" he asked, smoothly falling into his normal roll.

"You were acting all weird."

"Who, me?" Yuri asked smoothly, a slight smirk coming up to play at his lips. "I think you're imagining things. Hit your head last night?" The dark-haired man poked his young friend in the forehead as he spoke. "Maybe you fell out of bed. Have a nightmare?"

"I did not, Yuri! How old do you think I am?"

Laughing at the young teen's antics, Yuri cast a quick glance Raven's way. The older man was watching them calmly, an unreadable expression on his face. Raven knew something, but this time...Yuri would not ask. It did not matter. Not anymore.

"So, what's the plan for today?"

Realising that Raven was attempting to steer the conversation away from Yuri himself, the swordsman stepped back while Karol replied enthusiastically, "We're gonna look for that monster some more, Raven."

"I've been thinking..."

"You, thinkin'? That's a first, Yuri."

Ignoring Raven's jibe, the swordsman continued, "The description of that monster...I'll bet it was a Gentlematch."

"Ya sure 'bout that, Yuri?"

"Yeah, sure. They're rare, but we've seen them here on Tolbyccia, and the guy said it was raining that night."

"Yeah, but didn't he say it could disappear?"

"Think about it, Cap'n. It was a match in the rain. Of course it would disappear."

"Huh...I guess you're right..." Yuri was not going to mention that they typically liked coming out in the rain if Karol was not. Raven...Raven would let it slide.

"Look, why don't you and the Old Man take another look, but I gotta go."

"Go where, Yuri?"

Now how to answer that? There was no way he was going to tell them the whole truth. No way. Not about this.

"I just have an errand to run," he muttered with a light shrug. I'll meet you two back at Dahngrest later, okay?"

Not waiting for their answers, he pushed himself upright. Motioning for Repede to follow him, Yuri made his way to the door.

"Go catch a Gentlematch and drag it back to that guy. I bet he'd love it! Just make sure you don't burn any buildings down with it!" That said as he was walking out the door. Shutting it behind him, Yuri motioned for his dog to follow.

"Come on, Repede...we have some investigating to do."

________________________________________

The day was overcast, the air thick with the fresh rain that had just fallen. Repede's paws felt damp and heavy from dragging through the wet grass, yet that did not stop the tough hound from following his partner as the swordsman walked away from the small graveyard on Tolbyccia. Behind them, the damp breeze stirred the small bouquet of purple hyacinths and sweet peas, the purple and pink flowers making the faintest of rustling sounds that even the dog's keen hearing could barely pick up.

While he did not pretend to understand all human customs, Repede had a pretty good idea what this was about. He could not say for certain, of course, but it was tied to _him_. Yuri had only ever taken the time to tell Repede the barest of details of that night, but the intelligent hound had pieced the rest together himself. The conversation with the florist over the meanings of the flowers had not hurt in that area, either.

He also understood that the flowers behind them were not from Yuri. Merely, his partner was acting as the messenger this time. Just this once.

Tilting his head back, Repede took another long look at the graveyard behind them. Nothing moved down there to his eyes, now, the brief breeze having long since died away. Still, he stared back, almost imagining he could make out the engraving on the tombstone from where he was. He could not read, of course, but he could imagine.

Turning back, the dog made his way to the top of the hill that Yuri had just disappeared behind. Pausing, he glanced back one final time as the wind picked up once more, wafting the perfume of the flowers up to his sensitive nose. On a whim, Repede tilted his nose skyward and let out a long, wailing howl. Perhaps nobody would understand him, but he wanted to have one last say, too.

"Come on, Repede!"

At the sound of Yuri's voice, the blue-and-white dog turned and loped after his partner. Falling in beside the human, the two walked on. So far as Repede knew, Yuri would never again lay eyes on that small cemetery.

Behind them, the weak breeze ruffled the flowers' petals once more, exposing the crude inscription on the stone plaque:

Rest in Peace  
Mari


End file.
